


Taken

by s_alt



Series: Tony and Bruce are a beautiful accident. [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hints of Non-con, M/M, Prompt Fic, but it gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_alt/pseuds/s_alt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Bruce bucked under him, and Tony knew.  It was </em>exactly<em> what it looked like.</em></p><p>In which Bruce and Tony find themselves in a very bad situation, and Tony learns something really important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taken

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fic inspired by [this prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/6565.html?thread=10865829#t10865829) on avengerskink. It strayed from the original, but fell nicely into a series I'm apparently writing, like it or no.
> 
> I have to give a nod toward [this story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/404942), because I read it before writing this one. It's hawt, and deals with accidental sex, too. 
> 
> This one didn't have a complete beta read; hope it's still okay.
> 
> Hints of dub-con, but it gets better.

There wasn't a way out.

Tony had looked - all the exits were blocked by rubble or sealed by the heat of the explosion. The only reason he was still alive was because Bruce had been there, and nothing stopped the Big Guy. He'd appeared, a mountain in the madness, surrounding Tony as ceiling collapsed, howling fury at the skies. There had been fire, Tony remembered, and a great glowing light, and everything had caved in around them.

Now, though, Bruce was Bruce again, naked and sweating and shivering in the melted aftermath, and Tony could tell something was wrong.

"Bruce?" Tony tried, voice tentative and soft. His body felt bruised from head to toe, and his ears still rang enough to muffle most sound. He couldn’t hear his own voice. “Banner, you okay?”

Tony’s hand reached Bruce’s shoulder, and fingers brushed skin impossibly hot. Burning. Tony jerked his hand back, suddenly very worried. He wished desperately that his ears would cooperate; he could tell there was sound emanating from Bruce, but couldn’t make out what it was.

“Bruce? Come on, look over here. Let me know you’re okay.”

Bruce planted fists on what remained of the floor, didn’t look up. He rocked on hands and knees, skin quivering and flush, and Tony was afraid. Sounds started flooding back in the wake of that rush, and Tony made out what Bruce was saying.

“...Molybdenum, 2617; Technetium, 2200; Ruthenium, 2250....” Bruce was rattling off items from the periodic table, voice deep and shivery and tight, eyes on the floor. His fists lifted and planted again with each one, and even as Bruce, he left imprints in the floor, a sure sign that control wasn’t quite in reach. “... Rhodium, 1966; Palladium....”

“Bruce, I’m here now, I’m here,” Tony said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt. His friend looked so lost. He went to his knees beside Bruce, putting a hand on that back, so impossibly warm. The recitation stopped.

“Talk to me, Bruce. Tell me what’s going on.”

Bruce shook his head, sweat flying from his soaked hair. “Can’t. Can’t, Tony. Can’t. Back away.” He lifted a trembling palm Tony’s direction, pushing at the air.

Tony had been in plenty of bad situations with Bruce, and knew the signs. He settled back, away from Bruce, lifting his hand away quietly. Something had the man on the bad side of the edge, and Tony knew enough not to provoke it.

Bruce’s shivering lessened a bit, and his recitation continued, hands flexing in and out of the holes they’d made on the floor. “Silver, 962; Cadmium, 321...”

Tony looked around at the devastation. Their remote lab, hidden in the desert, had been torn apart, the space around them little more than a pile of rubble and melted machines. If Tony had the suit, he could rocket out of here, go get help, but it was far away, and his communication devices had been destroyed. They were on their own, Bruce fighting hard, Tony trying to think of a way to help.

“God, what did they _do_?” Tony managed after watching longer than he wanted to. His brain was still moving slower than he liked, and he wondered if he had a concussion. He felt around his head with his hands, didn’t find anything that hurt more when he pressed.

Bruce didn’t look up; in fact, he curled deeper, pulling hands to his stomach and pushing them hard there, resting his forehead on the rubble before him. “Not them. Fire. It...” He pointed toward one of the piles of metal for a moment, pulling his hand back to his belly quickly with a groan. “Exploded, and hit...oh, _god_ , Tony...” His body trembled there, and Tony fought not to touch, offer comfort. He could feel the heat rolling off his friend in waves. “This is _bad_.”

Tony got to his feet to examine the hunk of metal Bruce had pointed out, and his eyes went wide. “Oh, shit, Bruce. All the samples?”

Bruce pounded his forehead into the ground, grunting assent. “Glass was strong...” he managed, and Tony noticed for the first time a dozen little striations on Bruce’s back and cursed again. 

“They’re in your _blood stream_?” He was backing away now, and fast. That cold locker had been filled with a dozen or more hormone samples taken from the most aggressive male animals on the planet: baboon, rhino, bull elephant, more. They’d needed them for testing the compounds they were designing, hoping to counteract the half dozen chemicals that might lead to aggression, might lead to the Hulk, and they had been making progress - enough so that they’d just refilled their stock a week ago.

The stock was history now - whatever had caused the fire had obviously ignited the coolant and blown the locker wide, not three feet from where Bruce curled now, surrounded by the remains of the safety glass, the cuts it made on his back not quite healed. 

Bruce’s head flew up toward Tony. “STOP MOVING. STOP.” His eyes were bleeding away, fading to green, and his expression was desperate and pained.

Tony froze, putting hands up and out in surrender. “Fight it, big guy,” he murmured, keeping his voice carefully low and calm, and watched as Bruce did, fought it hard, hissing and moaning and curling, struggling for control.

A speaker that had miraculously survived cracked to life. “Tony,” Steve’s voice said, a little louder than was comfortable. “We’re locked to your position and on our way. Just keep things calm for a little longer and we’ll get you out of there.”

“Oh thank god,” Tony started, but went immediately silent when Bruce suddenly threw back his head, body starting to bulge. “NO!” he roared, and was suddenly on his feet and stomping toward Tony even as his body grew. Tony stumbled backward, turned, tried to run - but it was too late, as hands too big to be Bruce’s snatched him up around the middle and jerked him backward, knocking the air out of Tony’s lungs as great arms closed around him. He couldn’t see, was facing the wrong way, but could feel the body wasn’t Bruce’s as he struggled for air.

“Tony, are you - ” came Steve again, and the thing that wasn’t Bruce, wasn’t yet Hulk, howled and kicked a huge chunk of rubble in the direction of the sound. “NOT TAKE TONY!”

“Stop talking, Steve,” Tony managed to gasp. “Just get here.”

Tony’s feet left the ground, and for a dizzying moment he was in the air, topsy-turvy, and had no clue how up and down applied. He was tucked up under one big arm when the world stopped whirling, and he felt Bruce - hopefully it was still Bruce, he couldn’t tell, was still facing the wrong way - sit down heavily in a corner far away from the speaker. The arm around him jerked up and in, and Tony found himself dumped, rather unceremoniously, into the creature’s lap.

Finally, Tony could see that Bruce hadn’t changed - oh thank fuck for that - at least not completely. Tony could still feel the strange heat from Bruce’s skin, and could see the man was still fighting. He’d grown some - was bigger than he should be, and muscles were far more taut - but he gritted his teeth and shook with the effort of keeping it from going further.

A shaky, deep voice came from that heaving chest. “NOT TAKE TONY,” it said, and eyes gone green-white stared fury in the speaker’s direction. “ _MINE_.” 

_Oh, holylivinghell_ , Tony thought. _Fuckstick_.

One of those big hands landed heavily on Tony’s aching head, and kind of petted there a moment. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t fun, either, and Tony pulled his head away automatically. This elicited a growl, though, and the arm around him gripped tighter, so Tony went still and endured the strange attention.

That, apparently, wasn’t good enough either. Tony saw lips purse and frown, and he gulped when those big eyes looked down at him with a flash of irritation. He felt that familiar shift in the air, the one that lit up every part of him that ever wanted to run and hide, that signaled the coming transformation.

“Tony!” came Steve’s voice again, but whatever else he said was drowned out in a deafening roar, and Tony’s brain practically lit with fear. 

“Shut the hell _up_ , Steve!” he cried, and that seemed to confuse the creature, who went silent and tilted his head again toward the man in his lap. He blinked, licking his lips the way Bruce did when studying a problem, and Tony thought really, really fast. “Yeah - that’s right, big guy. Steve can shut the hell up, and all the others, because I’m staying _right here with you._ ” He punctuated each of those last words with a jab at the floor, surprising himself with his adamancy.

Those eyes, so far from human at this point, questioned. “MINE?” 

“ _Yours._ ” 

The creature studied Tony for a long moment, as if sizing up the honesty in those words. And to Tony’s own surprise, he found he’d really meant them. His friend was fighting hard in there, Tony could see it, and he needed help. Tony wasn’t about to run away and leave him like that. He hadn’t done it in the lab, when their acupuncture treatment went awry, and he wasn’t going to do it now.

Tony twisted in Bruce’s lap so he could grab the man’s face with both hands and stared right into those eyes, letting his resolve sink in. He saw the recognition when it did, felt the big arm relax. Tony took the big, gulping breath he’d been needing, let his head fall back with the joy of it. God, that was better.

“MINE,” the beast repeated, and again. “MINE. MINE.” There was a panting under the sound, something needy, and Tony looked back to see the creature’s eyes roaming over his body. A none-too-gentle hand grabbed his hip; Bruce licked his lips in an entirely different way as his other hand curled around the waistband of Tony’s pants, and Tony froze all over again, hoping hard that this wasn’t what it looked like.

Bruce bucked under him, and Tony knew. It was exactly what it looked like. 

_This is an entirely new level of oh shit right here_ , Tony’s mind informed him, and then the hand holding his waistband jerked downward, ripping the fabric roughly, jerking Tony deeper into Bruce’s lap. And oh, Bruce responded, growling deep in his chest, letting go of the tattered jeans to take Tony’s other hip in hand and hold him down as he thrust upward, his stiffness pushing against Tony’s buttcheeks. Tony remembered that cock in his hand; it hadn’t been small, and sure as hell didn’t feel it now.

“Oh, god. Bruce, please -” he started, but the beast was paying no attention, or took the words as an invitation. It grabbed the fabric and pulled, tearing all the way down the outer seam, then reached in and grabbed Tony’s now-exposed ass with a hungry, hot hand. Tony winced as it squeezed, panic starting to rise. He tried to push away, hands pressed to Bruce’s naked, sweating chest, but that just made Bruce hold him even harder, snarling in frustration. Tony saw it settle in Bruce’s eyes, start its growth into fury. Oh, god no. No no. Not now.

Tony stopped struggling, watching the fury fade into the background behind that thrusting need. Bruce’s groans choked a little, and Tony watched that forehead crease, those eyes bleed back a little to human, fill. He saw Bruce see himself, saw the self-loathing start to settle in as he swallowed, whimpered, dropped his partly-transformed face to hide, hips still bucking, hard with need.

In the weeks of fevered fucking that followed, Tony looked back at this moment and blessed that feeling that rose in him then - an insane, righteous anger that wasn’t about to allow anyone to hurt Bruce, least of all _himself_.

Tony snarled, pulling himself out of Bruce’s slackened grip just long enough to stand and unravel himself from the remainder of his clothing. Bruce, sitting on his knees, legs tucked under him, watched with hungry eyes, reaching hands. They locked on Tony the moment he was in range again, this time at Tony’s wrists, and dragged him down until Tony went to his knees, too, staring right back into that hunger, feeling it, feeding it - and something in him responded with a shudder, and fire.

He plunged Bruce’s cock into his mouth with such heat that he gagged himself, and his skin lit with need when he heard Bruce groan.

There were fevered moments then, Tony sucking with an abandon he hadn’t felt since high school, Bruce’s hand pressed on the back of Tony’s head, pushing him down, pulling him up. Tony was lost in it when Bruce’s fingers suddenly curled into hair and pulled him off that wonderful cock with a wet smack, and Tony moaned his displeasure before feeling the tremble, seeing the fight rising in those eyes. Panting - god, _wanting_ \- Tony forced his heartbeat to relax a little, lifting himself back to his knees to press his forehead against Bruce’s own.

They breathed together like that, Bruce trembling to the core, Tony patient, until the danger passed, and then went at it again.

Bruce was beyond speech, time and again grunting and moaning and pulling Tony away, but Tony found words, telling Bruce that his cock was delicious, that he could swallow it all day,that those hips were meant to fuck his mouth. When they paused, Tony whispered Bruce dirty promises - that his mouth would be ready anytime, that he could come and take Tony as he wished, that his holes would be moist and ready whenever Bruce was. Bruce growled and scratched and bit and moaned as he trembled and fought for control, head pressed to Tony’s chest or throat, and Tony wanted to come right there, taken apart with need.

At last Bruce’s hands fumbled, whirling Tony around, grabbing his hips from behind. He rose to his knees, holding on a long moment with furiously hot hands, watching and trembling as Tony’s moistened fingers pushed into himself, stretching his opening, making it ready as he’d promised. Finally, Bruce pressed forward, and Tony came before he was even all the way in, moaning Bruce’s name, crying _yours, yours_.

The rest was all Tony being gloriously, perfectly used.

By the time the plane arrived, Tony and Bruce had fallen into a sweaty, naked pile, and Bruce’s body had managed to purge itself of all those extra hormones and slump into the kind of exhausted sleep that always followed the beast’s unleashing. Tony held him, tight against his chest, and didn’t even flinch when Steve pointed out (quietly, when the others were turned politely away) that the communication device he’d been using had been receiving as well as transmitting. Tony just smacked his lips and grinned hard.

 _Oh, holylivinghell_ , Tony thought as he put one arm behind his head on the floor, Bruce slouched against him. He squeezed the man once before letting Thor pick him up, then settled back again with a smile. This was messed up, he knew, and shit like this always ended badly, but for a moment, that part of him that had been well and truly taken just didn’t care, just revelled in it. Let them all listen in; he’d got - hell, _discovered_ \- what he wanted, and he was looking forward to a lot more.

At last. At long, fucking last.

 _Yeah, fuckstick_. This was going to be good.


End file.
